


They were people

by Nights_feather



Category: Danny Phantom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nights_feather/pseuds/Nights_feather
Summary: Ghosts were people too, yet it was something no one dared to think about. However, the appearance of a ghost child, one more human-looking than any other, was not something Lewis could ignore. Between what the ghost hunters say and his own opinion toward the child, he struggles to shake away the feeling that, perhaps, they could be wrong.Lewis's thoughts on a dead child, or when Mr. Lancer notices more than he let others believe.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	They were people

**Author's Note:**

> So... I know it's been a while and all but... Here is the OS I said I would write? Okay, it's not that one actually... The one I said I was working on has proved to be a little tricky and a bit longer than what I expected (and, by a bit, I really mean a few thousands words too long). Instead, you get this one :)  
> Now I wrote this this afternoon, and I'm not used to write a whole piece in a day (I was trying really hard to escape my responsibilities on that one, and I still am). I did this instead of reviewing for the not-important-at-all-oh-wait-it-might-be exam I have tomorrow (and for which, let's face it, I don't know anything), so it's kinda short.  
> I'll write more of my blah-blah next week-end, after my exams... 'cause I kinda REALLY need to work on that mechanics exams.
> 
> EDIT: So, for the context thingy… The whole OS is somewhere between the moment Danny becomes the n°1 public enemy (and is named Inviso-Bill, sadly) and the whole stuff with Pariah Dark. Which means part of the town is ready to give him a chance since he seems to try to help, but that's it. 
> 
> Also… I needed a first name for Lancer, since it's all from his point of view and I don't picture anyone using last names in that context. So here it is ! I picked Lewis for two reasons : 1. Lancer's name could start with an L because of his avatar in Doomed (though it could also stand for Lancer, we know the show, but even Technus had a N), and 2. Lewis Caroll, the author of Alice in wonderland (Well, technically, Alice's adventures in Wonderland, but I'm pretty sure it was the shortened version on the one I read)
> 
> There are other head-cannons involved in this too, but they don't deserve an explanation.

The bag full of groceries hit the cold tiles with a heavy sound as Lewis closed his front door behind him. Putting his keys into his jacket's pocket, he let out a pained groaned as he stretched his aching back. Another week, another attack. An attack in which he had, unfortunately, managed to get caught. With a sigh, he took off his jacket and dragged himself, along with the bag, to the fridge. Slowly putting his groceries away, Lewis heard a faint ringing tone. Though it took him a moment to realize it was his, he eventually walked back to his jacket to pick up. However, by the time he got there, his phone had become silencious. Despite not being in the mood of talking to anyone — spending your week trying to be listened to by bored teenagers when sick tended to do that — he quickly checked who the caller was. A slight smile appeared on his face when he saw the name, the one of an old friend of his, but he didn't call back — that he could do later. He didn't want to worry her with the recent attack, for he knew it would be a concern for her. The few people outside Amity Park who had heard and believed all the strange events in the town couldn't possibly understand the lack of panic of its inhabitants — and as lovely as Maria was, she too didn't understand. He couldn't blame them though, nobody could. After all, any sane person would worry about friends or family living in an actual haunted town.

Indeed, ghosts sure were Amity Park's most known incongruity. They appeared without warning, without even knowing for some. How many times had he walked into one of them, one not even aware it didn't belong to the world it was currently in? Had those things even a concept of belonging? The Fentons said they merely were the manifestations of someone's — something's — last emotions, and, as strange and deranged they seemed to be, they were still the experts. Emotions were not a consciousness, yet Lewis had a hard time thinking some of the ghost he had seen lacked one — whether it was the emotions or the consciousness, for that matter.  
However, the questions of ghosts had never bothered him — after all, knowing they existed gave a more than welcomed explanation to Amity Park strangeness. At least, that was what he thought… Yet, the recent event had troubled him more than he would have liked.  
The appearance of a ghost willing to help.

After all the Fentons had said, all the Fentons had warned them about… Here they were, dealing with a ghost which kept repeating he wanted to help. However, the sudden appearance of a benevolent spirit was the last of his concern — or, well, the fact that it was benevolent was. All ghosts had obsessions, it was the sole reason of their existence. A ghost's obsession could range from anything between mere survival to world conquest, or so kept saying the ghost hunters — ghosts willing to take over the world were yet to be seen. With that knowledge, the existence of one with protecting the town for obsession didn't seem too far-stretched. No, the existence of a "good ghost" didn't troubled him.  
The fact that this ghost was the one of a mere child, however, did.

Never before had he thought about the ghosts' origins, nor had it even skimmed over him their obsessions came from somewhere. Such ideas had never occupied his thoughts, not before this week at least. It was a detail most people in Amity Park overlooked, for most of them didn't want to think about it either. It was a detail easily forgotten when faced with the various appearances the ghosts could have. It was a detail, except it wasn't one.  
Thought Lewis couldn't tell whether it was the case for all ghosts, some of them at least used to be human. Some had once walked in the same streets he passed every day, enjoying the calm of this dear town. And he thought — he knew — it was the reason behind the presence of some: the ghosts of the dead, the ones which still looked human. The ones that, perhaps, caused some people to swallow their tears at the view of someone they once knew. The Fentons had said none of them remembered being human, that they in fact had never been. Ghosts were only ectoplasmic manifestation of a human's sub-consciousness at the time of their death, he remembered hearing them say — and if they didn't, it was probably something along those lines. Yet, despite their words, he couldn't help but wonder if, by all mean, they could be wrong.  
All of this because of one single ghost.

They had named it Inviso-Bill — a poor chosen name, he had to say, and the ghost in question seemed to share his opinion. He— No, it. It is ghost, not a person. It appeared on the ghost invasion, wreaking havoc and kidnapping the mayor, yet Lewis didn't know what to think about him — it, it's a ghost. Despite being there, he didn't remember anything — he had been overshadowed apparently, and he wasn't sure whether he liked this option better than simply forgetting the events for no discernable reason. When Lewis had come back to his senses, the ghost was staring at him with a smile and, dear God, hadn't he panicked when faced with this glowing, scratched child. However, when thinking about it, the ghost was probably one of the less scary in town. Sure the glowing and greenish tint of his skin were unsettling enough, but besides those he looked mostly human — no, it looked. Lewis sighed and shook his head, why bother correcting himself anymore? The child looked human, way too much for him not to somehow consider him like one. He couldn't possibly be older than his students, if not even younger — at least physically. A mere child, who would probably insist on being called a teenager even though he was merely qualified for that… A child who knew his way around technology way too well for… Lewis closed his eyes, trying to forget the thought. The ghost child was probably a recent ghost, not older than a few years. A child death had taken way too soon, stucking him as a ghost unable to move on.  
His family was probably still alive, his parents still grieving his death when, unbeknown to them, their son was still around. Perhaps did he use to live in Amity Park, which would explain his desire to protect the town? Lewis could only make hypothesis. However, the idea that this child could have lived there, attending Casper High… It made him shiver. He couldn't bear the thought of one his students, one of those children he saw on a daily basis and cared deeply for, dying so young. It had happened twice during his career, or rather it had happened once but had taken two students away. Siblings, a boy and a girl, both he had had in one of his classes at some point. An accident had taken their lives, a stupid car accident in the middle of winter and they were gone. The toll had been huge on the school, and the memory of so many teenagers crying in the hallway was one which would never leave him. He could imagine how devastating the death of this ghost child had been.

The bag was now empty, all the groceries stoked in the fridge or in the cupboards. Lewis put away the bag, taking a heap of paper from his desk on his way back. He wasn't in the mood to correct those tests there, so he figured out he could as well do it in the kitchen with the TV on. After all, those were only tests about a play he had asked his juniors to read. The first paper he recognized on spot, for the curled writing was one easily identified: Jasmine Fenton; at least, this one wouldn't be too much work.  
As he checked the answers, his mind drifted back to his previous thoughts — how devastating the death of a child could be. Somehow, the idea that the ghost child used to live in Amity Park wouldn't leave him. And with the paper he was now reading, the thought was even more present. This idea, added to the memory… It had only brought back moments he wished he could forget. This Monday morning, when he had picked up a call which had frozen him. When Mrs. Fenton, Jasmine's mother, had called in to inform him her son wouldn't attend school with her voice still shaking from what had happened. Hearing her back then hadn't immediately rung a bell, and he hadn't realized what her tone meant until she gave him the reason of Daniel's absence.

_‘There was an accident. Danny, he… He has been hurt. We are at the hospital, I'll call you back tomorrow.’_

It had been brief, Mrs. Fenton clearly too shaken to hold much longer, and a heavy silence had replaced her words. And fear. The fear that the next call would be to tell him Daniel wasn't coming back.

Lewis brushed the memories away, those ones still too fresh for him to deal with, and focused on the tests instead. His attention was caught again by the TV, a journalist relating the ghost attack he had been through earlier that day. And there he was, almost recognizable on the screen. Though ghosts were hardly visible on pictures or videos, this one was almost always well defined compared to them. Lewis tried to ignore it, focusing even more on the paper he was holding, but his mind kept drifting back. The ghost child was probably someone's son, or he had been. And this child had decided to fight a battle in which he had nothing to do, for a child's place is not in a war — no matter how good at it he may be, and Lewis couldn't argue he would be able to keep up with the other ghost hunters in town if given the chance. He wondered for a second… What if the child wanted it? What if all this game of cats and mouse was in fact just a game for him? He was a ghost after all, there was no death for him to be afraid of. Perhaps… Perhaps it was the answer. Perhaps the ghost child was doing this because he couldn't have possibly even try while alive. And, despite his efforts, he had all the ghost hunters in town on his tail... Lewis sighed, groaning as he noticed he wasn't even past his third paper. Hopeless, he pushed it away and turned off the TV, his hands rubbing his temples as he tried to think of something else. However, right before the sound of the TV became silence, he heard one witty banter from the ghost child and smiled. He was thinking too much, and the child was probably less concerned about his death than Lewis was.

And when he saw the ghost child, the same evening, happily flying in the sky, Lewis smiled. He smiled, for this child whose life had been taken too soon hadn't given up his joy in death. He smiled, and drew the curtains hoping that, one day, this child would finish what he had left undone and move on.


End file.
